


The Machine

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Chases, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Raijin Days, Sexual Fantasy, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Slash. A chase goes wrong.





	The Machine

They’re so far out of town Shizuo doesn’t recognise it anymore. They’ve been belting through fields and mud for the past half hour, the city far behind them, and he would have normally given up by now, but something is off about Izaya - he is unusually slow, unusually uncoordinated, crashing into corners instead of around them, almost mis-timing an easy parkour jump, and Shizuo wants to make the most of this newfound weakness. It's the closest he's ever come to having the upper hand, and he’s going to run Izaya down this time, he has to.

Where they are is anyone’s guess. Some industrial estate with nothing but ghosts, abandoned warehouses and rusty signs. Shizuo wonders if Izaya has a plan, or if he’s just running blind. It's far too open to give him any real advantage, unlike in Ikebukuro, where he can lose Shizuo with a few sharp turns, so Shizuo is inclined to think the latter. 

Whatever. This time, he’s going to catch Izaya, he’s going to actually makethe flea stay away from him for good.

He’s so confident that it takes him a minute to realise that the flea has vanished.

Shizuo skids to a halt. He drops his palms to his knees, breathing harsh in the stillness. He waits for something, a noise, a clue, while the sun beats down on his back and a crow caws mockingly over his head. A growl builds in his throat. Fucking Izaya. 

He looks around himself. They’re completely in the open. There’s literally nowhere for Izaya to have gone, except…

He eyes the nearest building. He'd dismissed it at first, as the metal shutters look impenetrable even for him, but even Izaya can't have disappeared into thin air. He skirts the building, running his hand along the shutters and the walls, just in case, but it's just as solid as it looks. Perhaps Izaya had just run off when he hadn't been looking.

Shizuo kicks the building in frustration. And blinks. Instead of the resistance he’d been expecting, there was a little give in the wall. He tries again, taking aim this time, and it swings neatly open, revealing an old fire exit. Shizuo grins to himself, and steps inside. 

His eyes take a moment to adjust. The warehouse, if that's what it is, is covered in dust and cobwebs, lines of machines and equipment fading into the darkness. It's impossible to tell what any of it is for. What sounds like a rat scuttles past his feet, making him jump. He wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Izaya,” he calls impatiently. He steps forward carefully, unable to see the floor. “Where the hell are you?”

He waits. He doesn’t want to stray too far from the door, in case Izaya gets around him and locks him in. He’d rather wait the bastard out. The flea has to make a noise eventually.

Shizuo’s almost started to think Izaya isn’t in here, when he does hear a noise – stumbling in the dark, followed by a hiss of pain. “Shit.”

Shizuo grins again. 

“Hi, Izaya-kun," he calls. He walks towards where he’d heard the flea, taking care not to trip on whatever Izaya had. “Real smart, coming to this shithole where we can’t even see anything. You like hanging out with rats and cockroaches?”

“Shut up,” Izaya snarls, from what sounds like the same place, which is weird. It's weird he's not running. Shizuo wonders if he’s managed to corner himself. It must be his lucky day. “No-one forced you to follow me here, Shizu-chan.”

“Just like no-one forces you to make my life a living hell every day.”

“Fuck you.”

Something in his tone makes Shizuo pause. Not the cussing, although this is unusual, but the strain in his voice. Shizuo has been close enough to Izaya to hurt him before, but it's never made him break a sweat.

“Why aren’t you running?” he asks curiously.

Izaya doesn’t answer for a moment. Shizuo listens to him squirming around.

“I’m stuck,” he says finally.

“Stuck?”

Shizuo comes close enough to inspect exactly how he is 'stuck'. Izaya is next to one of the taller, scarier looking machines. His arm is above his head, somehow wedged into the machinery. Shizuo laughs at him. Izaya’s eyes glare back in the dark.

“How did you manage that?”

“My sleeve got caught,” he growls. He strains against the machine again, as if to prove his point.

“There’s probably a rat’s nest in there,” Shizuo comments, tapping it. “Probably hungry ones.”

“Fuck you."

“Or cockroaches, maybe,” Shizuo continues, ignoring him. “You’ll probably end up with some kind of infection. Good job, flea.”

Standing this close to the machine, even though he's not the one who's trapped, makes him vaguely uneasy. It's larger, more formidable than the others, its surface near glaring in the dark. Izaya busies himself with trying to get free, not even bothering to snap back or aim a kick at Shizuo. Shizuo watches him for a moment. He considers tickling him, but he thinks Izaya may actually knife him if he winds him up when he's this state. 

“Take your coat off,” Shizuo suggests.

“Oh, brilliant, why didn’t I think of that?” Izaya snaps, dripping sarcasm. “My whole fucking _arm_ is stuck, Shizuo. The clothes are a bit redundant.”

“All right,” he says, irritated. He’d normally react more harshly, but Izaya's panic is showing in his voice, and it blunts Shizuo's temper. “Chill out, will you? You’ll get out.”

He pets Izaya’s hair, to wind him up, and Izaya cringes like he's been hit. It does nothing for Shizuo's unease.  

An unplaceable noise comes from the depths of the building then, like an old house at night, a boiler turning itself on.

“What was that?” Shizuo says.

Izaya doesn't answer for a moment.

“Some of the machines are still working.”

“What? No, they’re not.”

Though he has to admit, that had been exactly what it sounded like. 

“They are. All these companies went bust in the 60's. No-one packed it all up properly. No-one cared.”

“You’re just scaring yourself,” Shizuo says. “No one’s paying the electricity bill, for one thing.”

“I don’t think it’s electric. I think it’s all mechanical.”

Izaya’s eyes find his in the dark, pleading with him.

“Help me,” he says, the last of the bite leaving his voice. “Please.”

Shizuo hesitates. Not because he has to think about it, but because he really doesn't want to put his hands anywhere near that machine. 

“Please,” Izaya says again. “It hurts.”

“You wouldn’t help if it were me,” he hears himself saying, just to mess with him, but he reaches up above their heads and starts feeling around Izaya’s arm, trying to figure out where he’s stuck.

“Thank you,” Izaya says, wilting with relief.

“I haven’t got you out yet,” Shizuo tells him. “Keep still.”

Izaya keeps still for about half a minute, until one of the machines hiss, making them both jump, and he starts wriggling again.

“What’s taking you so long?” he says impatiently. “Just _pull_.”

“I can’t see what I’m doing, Izaya-kun,” Shizuo snaps. “Do you want me to pull your God damn arm off?”

Izaya stills, but he growls under his breath, “You’ll probably do that anyway.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Izaya says nothing.

Shizuo would normally enjoy the flea submitting so easily, but he can feel the flea starting to shake and freak out, and it softens him.

"Just - hold on," he mutters. He can't feel any give where the machine's got him. His wrist is wedged between what feels like old cogs, stiff and rusted with age. He tries to sound calmer than he feels. “Worse case scenario, we’ll have to phone someone to cut you free.”

“There’s no reception.”

Of course there isn’t.

“Then…I’ll just go outside til I get one.”

Izaya says nothing. He clearly doesn't believe Shizuo will do anything if he goes outside other than leave him. 

One of the machines makes another noise like it’s ticking, waiting to go. Shizuo grits his teeth. It's pissing him off, and it's making Izaya squirm, and Shizuo needs him still so his hands don't slip. 

“They’re just making noises because they’re old,” Shizuo tells him. “There’s no way they would have been left in a working condition, with this place not even locked up properly. And they're so old, they won't work now anyway.”

Izaya says nothing for a minute.

"They're not that old."

“Well, you should have thought about that before you came in here," Shizuo snaps. He's annoyed he hasn't got Izaya free yet, that he's still here doing this, when Izaya would probably take pictures and laugh if it were him.  Why's he doing this?

He sighs, takes a deep breath, and tries again.

“All right.” He says. “Hold still.”

“Be careful,” Izaya tells him. “There’s something sharp up there. That’s how I caught my coat.”

“Why were you touching it in the first place?”

“I slipped. I grabbed it to get my balance. Then I was trying to get my coat free.”

"Of course you were."

The machine groans as he pushes parts of it experimentally, trying to find a weak spot. It’s followed by a low whine, what sounds unmistakably like a button being pressed, a system firing up.

Izaya goes completely still. “What’s that."

“Nothing,” Shizuo says, even as he feels a stab of panic, the machine beginning to hum under his fingers.

"Shizuo, get me out, get me out _now_."

He starts pulling at Izaya’s arm as well as prying the machinery open, but none of it moves an inch, even with him putting all his strength into it.

“Oh God,” Izaya whimpers, as something pulls him, the noise of an old, old motor starting. “Help me _,_ Shizuo, please help me, -”

Shizuo sticks his hands right inside, as Izaya starts to yell in pain. He starts to kick at Shizuo in his panic, almost dislodging his grip, but he keeps hold, pulling blindly in the dark, even when he feels it crushing in on his own hands. Just when he's sure this is it, that Izaya must be losing his hand and that he  _has_ to let go himself, the motion of the machine allows enough of a gap for Izaya to jerk back, getting halfway free, and Shizuo seizes holds of him and pulls as hard as he can. There’s a sick ripping sound as the sleeve of Izaya’s coat is sucked into the noise, and they go crashing backwards into the wall.

“Oh fuck. Are you OK? Are you OK?”

Shizuo gropes blindly while Izaya sobs with pain, thinking,  _please don't let him lose his hand, let it be sprained or even broken, just don't let it be crushed, don't let it be lost, please, anything but that_.

Izaya's hand is wet and shaking, and it's too dark for them to see, so Shizuo kicks blindly at the shutter until he gets his foot through it, allowing a circle of sunlight. 

Shizuo drags him into it and prys Izaya's other hand away, where he has it cradled, and holds it as gently as he can to the light. He almost passes out with relief when he sees and feels Izaya's hand is intact. Shaking and wet with blood, at a twisted angle like a claw, but whole, there.

“Oh, thank God.” He lets go, and drops his head against Izaya's in relief. “You’re OK. You’re OK.”

Izaya clings back to him just as hard.

“Thank you,” he says, when he can speak. “Thank you, thank you.”

They sit there clinging while the machine keeps whirring and spitting behind them.

“Oh God.” Izaya pushes Shizuo away to put his hands over his ears, flinching when it jars his arm. “Let’s get away from that thing. It’s driving me crazy.”

Shizuo gets hold of Izaya’s good arm, helps him stand, and they both stumble through the fire exit. It's like coming back to another world. Izaya drops into the grass and doesn't move, cradling his arm. 

Shizuo drops next to him and tries to ease his other arm away. 

“Let's see... oh shit, you’re losing so much blood.”

The whole of Izaya’s arm is red, his jacket sleeve ripped in half with only tatters left. The rest of him is black, covered in grime and oil from where he’d tried to free himself. His shirt's damp with sweat and his cheeks are wet. 

“It’s OK,” he says, cradling his arm. He tries to control his breathing. “I cut it when I was trying to get out. It wasn't that that hurt. It was -when I could feel it pulling me – “

“OK," Shizuo cuts him off, nausea rising in his stomach. "Don't think about it."

He helps Izaya wriggle out of the remains of his coat, and they wrap his arm in it.

Izaya’s white and grey and slick with sweat, and he leans against Shizuo almost involuntarily. Shizuo hugs him wearily.

“You’re OK,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” Izaya sobs. “I was tired. I was only going to hide for a second. I didn’t know what was in there.”

“It’s OK,” Shizuo says. He moves his hand to cup Izaya’s head. “It’s OK.”

He holds the flea until he's quiet, until it's just his heart banging away against Shizuo's chest. He stinks of what could be tar, grease, and Shizuo can feel this and blood and whatever else seeping through his own clothes. He barely registers it. He still can't quite believe that Izaya hasn't lost his hand.

He’d seen it in his head, clear as anything, he'd felt the power of the cogs, all while he was helpless, his strength useless for the first time. Inside the building, the machine is still going, fainter, stuttering now and then, like it's struggling to keep going.

“Are you OK?” Shizuo asks. It’s not the first time he’s asked it. He feels for Izaya’s hand through his coat to check it’s still there. 

Izaya nods against his throat. Then he pushes away from him, sits up by himself. Then, he starts to laugh, covering his face with both hands. It’s so hysterical that Shizuo doesn’t feel so much as a flicker of annoyance, doesn't even scowl, and just waits for him to stop.

“Fuck,” Izaya says. “I’m sorry." He swallows. “You – you should go. You should go home. I just need to sit for a minute, but I'm OK. You can get out of here.”

Shizuo doesn’t move.

“I’m fine,” Izaya says. “Really.”

Shizuo looks at the now silent building, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“We have to tell someone about this,” he says. “Even if we get in trouble. In case kids get in or something. It’s dangerous.”

Izaya nods.

“I’ll do it. My jacket’s in there anyway. You won’t get in trouble.”

They sit in silence a little longer. Izaya still looks a little deranged, but his colour is coming back, his breathing is calmer, and his arm doesn't seem to be paining him as much. When the temperature dips, Shizuo takes his sweater off and gives it to Izaya, who puts it on without an argument, leaving his injured arm wrapped in his coat. It’s obviously too big for him, and although it hides the worst of the mess, it somehow makes him look worse.

“Maybe I should walk you home,” Shizuo says.

“It’s OK,” Izaya says. He doesn't say anything else, so Shizuo decides this doesn't qualify as a no.

He walks Izaya home slowly, like they’re coming back from a war, in a daze, and it’s only once they're in front of Izaya's house that Shizuo realises he hasn't got a clue what to tell Izaya's parents.

He needn’t have worried though, as the house is empty.

By the time they’ve both had baths, eaten, put Izaya’s arm in fresh bandages and watched a lot of bad TV, there’s still no sign of anyone.

“What time are they home?” Shizuo asks.

“Who?”

Izaya rubs at his arm, which, once clean, had been nowehere near as bad as it had been in Shizuo’s head. As it _could_ have been if Shizuo had been a little too slow, a little too weak. These thoughts keep coming back, nipping at him like vicious little animals, and he pushes this one away, exhausted with it all. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks Izaya.

Izaya shakes his head. "It's OK."

They end up on his bed, keeping the bad TV on for background noise, and neither of them suggest he leave, even when it gets late enough for his eyes to hurt. He'd already texted Kasuka to say he was staying at a friend's, to deal with their parents for him. There's still no sign of Izaya's family, and he doesn't like to ask.

“I keep thinking what could have happened if it had been you,” Izaya says now, jolting him out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t have been able to pull you out.”

He is lying on his side in the dark, watching Shizuo with an unreadable expression. 

“Don’t think about it,” he says tiredly.

Izaya keeps looking at him.

“I really owe you one,” he says. “I mean it. Anything at all.”

He’s still in Shizuo's sweater. He’d put it back on after he’d showered. It's obviously too big for him; the sleeves cover his knuckles and the hem brushes his hips, but Shizuo likes the way it looks on him.

He catches Shizuo looking and smiles at him, his real smile, sneer- and bullshit-free, and for a second Shizuo can see what everyone else sees in him; why people still love him and let him get away with murder.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he says. He glances at Izaya’s hand for probably the hundredth time. “Are you?”

“You’ve asked me about ten times,” he says, smiling still.

“Fuck off. I’ll ask you as many times as I want.”

“I’m OK.”

He laughs quietly and stretches out like a cat.

“Thanks again, Shizu-chan. Seriously, if you ever need anything...”

Shizuo grunts.

“Anything at all.” He leans over Shizuo’s chest to turn off the lamp, though neither of them have said a thing about him staying over. “Night, Shizu-chan.”

* * *

 

He’d relived it all in a nightmare, as he knew he would, and waking up to the relief of Izaya’s safety is sweeter than aything.

Izaya sighs in his sleep and pulls at Shizuo’s shirt with his good hand, cuddling into his neck. Shizuo lets him. He thinks the other man is asleep, until he feels his mouth on his throat, in a way that’s too deliberate to be unconscious.

“Izaya- “ He says, just as Izaya’s good hand catches his hair and pulls him down for a kiss. Shizuo’s protest turns into a low moan in his mouth. Izaya hooks a leg between his own, the grip in his hair turning into a caress. The kiss turns into teeth on his lower lip, and Shizuo takes hold of his hands - his whole, intact hands - and doesn't let go.

“Izaya,” he mumbles, as the other man climbs on top of him. “Izaya... “

He wakes up mumbling this into the other's hair. Izaya is curled up in front of him, injured arm placed carefully across the pillow, his good arm resting over Shizuo’s around his waist. Against his back, Shizuo is completely hard.

Swearing, he stumbles out of bed for the bathroom, convinced Izaya’s parents or sisters will come wondering why there’s a half naked, horny teenager in Izaya’s room in the middle of the night.

Locked in the safety of the bathroom, he leans back against the door and closes his eyes, and gives himself up to the rest of his subconscious.

* * *

 

He’d made a point of going back to sleep even further away from Izaya, but wakes up curled into him anyway. He wonders if the whole thing had been a dream, if he actually hadn't needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and jerk off. In the cold light of day, memories of what had happened are clearer than ever, and just the thought of arousal makes him feel queasy.

Izaya lifts his head, oblivious, but Shizuo feels a little stab of paranoia even so.

“Hey,” he says, not seeming to find Shizuo draped around him strange at all. “You all right?”

“Yeah.”

Clearly this exchange is too much effort, for his head thumps back on the pillow, and he is asleep again in seconds. He starts frowning after a few moments and tugs at his arm.

“You’re OK.” Shizuo says tiredly. He runs a hand over Izaya's hair. “You’re OK.”

* * *

 

When he finally goes home, he’s a little too chilly for this time of year. He realises Izaya still has his sweater. He shrugs, and goes home without it.

A favour. Izaya owes him a favour. A favour he wants to take advantage of as soon as possible, as he still feels uneasy about the whole thing. He wants Izaya’s hand to be completely normal again, without so much as a scratch, so he can stop feeling guilty and forget about it.

The only thing he can help of is help with is his homework, which is so lame but, it could make a big difference to his grade. 

He shakes his head. He wants to see Izaya. He wants to make the most of this ‘I-owe-you-one,’ niceness while it lasts, even if it's a lame excuse.

“I need a favour,” he says, as soon as Izaya picks up the phone.

“That didn’t take you long,” he laughs, sounding like his old, smug self again, but this is more a relief than irritation.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna help me or what?”

“Of course,” he says. “What is it?”

“I need you to help me with my History assignment.”

“Is that it?” he says, sounding disappointed.

“I can think of something else for when you’re done, if you’re so keen.”

“No, that’s fine…you mean today, right? Shall I come over?”

* * *

 

This is how, after barely half a day, Izaya ends up lying on his stomach on Shizuo’s bed, citing things for him to include in his assignment seemingly off the top off his head, effortless, although he still looks exhausted. He swings his bare feet as he talks, occasionally gets distracted by something in Shizuo's room - a book, a photograph - and talks about that instead. Less than 24 hours ago, they had been eating ice cream and asking each other if they were OK. And now he's here. This bizarre reality where they could get on. Where they could be friends. 

"I brought your sweater," he says, producing it, folded and fresh-smelling, from his bag. “I couldn’t get the tar stains out of the cuffs,” he says, fingering it. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s OK. I don’t wear it much.”

 _Is this it_? Shizuo finds himself wondering.  _Is this all it takes to stop hating someone?  
_

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” he says now, as a furry nose pokes through the door.

Shizuo glances up.

“Well, it’s Kasuka’s.”

“Younger siblings always get everything, don’t they?” He holds out his hand to the feline. “Hello, Kasuka’s cat.”

Normally stand-offish, Kasuka’s cat steps in to his arms, and purrs as Izaya cuddles her and scratches her ears.

“It used to be a factory, by the way. Not a warehouse.”

Shizuo looks at him now, thinking for a second Izaya was talking about the assignment. He can't keep up with him. Izaya goes on, oblivious.

“I called the council, but they seemed to think it was all a big hassle. So I called the local police, and they were the same. I called the parent company who owned all those places, couldn't get through to anybody. I was going to go back and put a sign on the door, you know, Danger, Keep Out, or something, but that might encourage them. Kids, I mean.”

He rolls on his back and yawns.

“What did you do when you got home?"

“Huh? Oh, not much. Slept. Watched some TV. I was trying to keep out of my brother’s way. What did you do?”

“Mm, the same. I had to pick my sisters up after you left, feed them, and then they were quite happy playing in their room until my parents came home. I just told them I botched a parkour move.”

A little silence falls. 

“Thanks again,” Izaya says, almost too quietly to hear.

“It’s not like I could have left you,” Shizuo mutters. “Even if you would have left me.”

“I wouldn’t have left you,” Izaya says, too loud and too suddenly for it to be a lie. “But I wouldn’t have been able to help you.”

Shizuo looks down at his homework, wonders why he’s doing it. He doesn’t care. He’ll care next week, when it’s due, when all his other drooping grades will dog him like a curse, but right now, he just wants Izaya to be here and unhurt.

"It's my fault."

"Huh?" Izaya lifts his head to look at him.

"You were tired, you said. I kept chasing you."

"You _saved_ me," Izaya says. "Don't be an idiot, Shizu-chan."

Kasuka knocks on the door then, looking for his cat. He almost drops her food dish when he sees her nuzzling Izaya.

“Hi,” Izaya says, and hands her over.

"Are you going to tell him?" Izaya asks, when he's gone. 

"I think so," Shizuo says, but if he does, it'll be a very censored version of events, one minus the feelings and the cuddling. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Shinra, probably. He was asking loads of questions."

He rubs his bandaged wrist and yawns. He yawns a lot, and Shizuo feels bad for making him come him when he's obviously not slept enough, for not going to him instead.

“How is it?”

“Better.” He looks over and seems to notice that Shizuo hasn't picked up his pen for the past half hour.

"Oh, sorry, have you finished? Do you want me to check it?”

“Later,” he says. “Let's have a break.”

He squashes up beside Izaya on the bed, which is smaller than Izaya’s, and turns on the TV.

"OK," Izaya says. "Don't let me fall asleep."

Although his cockiness is back, he doesn’t look much better than yesterday, pale and wan, with circles under his eyes as dark as if he’d been punched.

“What?” he says now, half smirking, half smiling, like malevolence is too much effort. “You keep looking at me.”

“Yeah, you don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I’m traumatised.” He laughs. “No, I don’t know. I’m tired. I've been tired all week.”

Shizuo says nothing. 

“Do you want me to go,” he says sleepily, when Shizuo’s been pretending to watch TV for over an hour, and it’s clear they're not going to do any more homework.

“No,” he says. “I mean, it’s OK.”

“Do you really not want this?” he says, fingering Shizuo’s sweater. “It’s nice.”

“Sure, have it,” Shizuo says, and Izaya pulls it over his head, taking care with his bad arm, and pushes the sleeves up his wrists.

“How long do you think we’ll keep being nice to each other?” he says now. “I mean, it’s still weird, but it’s barely been 24 hours. It won’t be weird forever.”

Shizuo says nothing.

“It’s not even that big a deal. I mean, neither of us are hurt.”

“Almost losing your hand's a pretty big deal."

Shizuo winces inwardly in the silence that follows. It had come out harsher than he intended.

“I know,” Izaya says, after a moment. “But, this is weird,” he says. “You worrying about me.”

“I’m not,” he growls. “I just want everything to be normal again.”

“It will,” he says. “After this weekend.”

“Why, because you’ve done your favour?”

“No,” Izaya growls. “You saved my fucking arm, Shizuo. That’ll always count. But give it another night and you’ll calm down a bit. You won’t be so worried any more. And you won't want to hang out with me when that happens.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Sure.”

"You don't know a fucking thing about what I'm thinking, Izaya."

Izaya has no response for this. They sit watching the rest of whatever it is in silence.

"I'll have to come back tomorrow night and help you," Izaya says, and it takes Shizuo a minute to remember what he's talking about, the assignment he's not really bothered about. "I have to pick up my sisters in the morning."

"Sure," Shizuo says, and they go to sleep next to each other again, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

The next afternoon, however, when Shizuo gets a call from Izaya, he somehow knows it will be bad.

“Hey,  Shizuo,” he says, something off about his voice, as he suspected. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can come over. I’m sick,” he says. “I swear I’m not trying to get out of it. I mean, I never get sick. I’m sure I’ll be better before it's due.”

“OK,” Shizuo says, concerned. “Sick, how? Have you been sick?”

“No,” he sighs. “I’m just, cold. Like, really fucking cold even though I’m covered in layers. And my head kills because I can’t eat or drink anything, because I'm too damn cold.”

“Is Shinra there?”

“He was, but, he had a pre-med exam or something. You know he’s taking everything early.”

“Yeah,” he says, vaguely unsettled. “Well, don’t worry helping me. Just - get better. Your parents are home, right?” he says, thinking of the other day.

“Ah, no, still away, but, it’s fine. I can’t eat anything anyway. I just need to rest. Probably.”

“OK,” he repeats, unconvinced. Sensing Izaya's about to go, he blurts, “Do you want me to come over anyway?”

“Huh?” he says. He takes a moment to process this. “Oh, that’s really nice but, ah, you’ve done enough. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “Really. I don’t mind. It’s not good for you to be by yourself.”

“...Are you sure?” he says, caving. “I mean, I wouldn’t, but... I don't ever feel this bad. I’m kind of freaked out.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures, already getting up. “It’s fine. I can come. I’ll come now.”

“Thank you,” he says, the relief evident in his voice. “I’ll leave the door on the latch, OK? I might be asleep.”

* * *

 

Izaya hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he was cold; he's shaking so hard, Shizuo can feel the bed moving with it.

"Hey," he says, concerned. He puts a hand on Izaya's head, is unsurprised to find it soaking with sweat. "Shit. I think you might need a real doctor, not Shinra."

"It's OK," he says, voice muffled slightly by the pillows he curled into. "I don't feel sick, or anything. I'm just - cold. I'm so, so fucking cold."

Shizuo notes Izaya is wearing his sweater, with what looks like many layers underneath it.

"I'll get you some water," he says.

Izaya doesn't drink it though, or eat, because he says it makes him cold. Feeling helpless, Shizuo just sits with him, forcing him to sip some hot water with lemon now and then. He sleeps a little and, thankfully, by the time he wakes, he's stopped shaking, and his body seems to have processed that it's hot, not cold.

"Thank you," Izaya murmurs, as Shizuo holds a damp washcloth over his head. "I really, really owe you one."

"It's OK," he says. "I just - I just want things to go back to normal. I want you to be OK."

"I shouldn't have asked you to come," he murmurs. "You've done enough."

"It's fine," Shizuo repeats.

Izaya goes quiet again.

"I wish my Mom were here," he says, after a little while. He gives a self-deprecating little laugh. "I can't believe I’m saying that to you.”

“It’s fine, I always want my Mon when I’m sick,” he says. “Have you called her?”

“No,” he says. “She’ll only worry and feel bad for not being here. I’ll be fine soon.” He pauses. "You must think my parents are so bad," he says. "But, they're not. They just have to work. They weren't expecting to have twins, so things were hard for a little bit."

Shizuo doesn't comment on this.

“Maybe you caught something in the factory," he says, to change the subject. "It was pretty filthy in there, and you were in for a little longer than me.”

“Hm."

He dozes off again. Shizuo lies back on the pillows beside him, feeling his forehead at intervals, now comfortable enough with him to not feel awkward about it.

“I feel like I owe you for so many things now,” Izaya says, whining a touch, like it is a huge inconvenience.

Shizuo looks down at him.

“Is it that bad?” he ventures. Having to be nice to me?”

“No-o,” he sighs. “I just – I do feel bad about things.” He turns his face away as he says it. “You know, when I go too far or something. I do feel bad about things. I know it doesn’t really come across.”

“Hm.” Shizuo pushes his hair back again. The cloth is getting a little hot again. “Well, don’t worry about any of that. Just, you know, get better.”

After another few hours, Izaya's still boiling, but claims to feel better, and even eats a little.

Shinra calls after his exam, and Izaya puts him on speaker.

“Shizuo’s here,” he tells him.

There’s a puzzled little silence on the end of the phone.

“Izaya, I think you're delirious.”

“He’s _here_ ,” Izaya insists, gesturing for Shizuo to speak.

“I’m here,” he says. “Flea owed me a favour, so.”

“Oh,” Shinra says, sounding perplexed.

“He’s been filling in for you, Shinra,” Izaya says now. “He’s done a really good job.”

“Well, I bet you'll be glad to get out of there, huh, Shizuo?” Shinra says cheerfully. “I’ll be there soon. Good to hear you’re feeling better, ‘Zaya.”

He starts chatting about his exam as he gets ready, and Izaya mutes the phone.

“You can go if you want,” he says. “He doesn’t live far. You’ve done enough.”

“Mm, you’re still kind of feverish,” Shizuo says. “Might as well stay.”

Shizuo doesn’t know why, but, now Izaya is better - a little damp with fever sweat but generally better - he almost…doesn’t want Shinra to come. He doesn’t want them to kick him out, but he can think of literally no excuse for to stay.

“I hope you don’t catch anything,” Izaya says now.

“Mm, yeah. Hope not,” Shizuo says vaguely. He gets up for a fresh wash cloth, wets it with cool water and replaces it on Izaya’s forehead.

“Thanks,” he says sleepily. He reaches up and grips Shizuo’s wrist without opening his eyes, thumb over his pulse point, and adjusting the cloth so he’s more comfortable. "That's so much better."

Shizuo twists his hand tentatively, so they’re palms are touching.

“You’re so skinny,” he says, thumbing his bones.

“I think I've lost a little weight,” he says. “Not eaten much since, you know.”

“Hm.”

Izaya’s hand sinks naturally from his forehead to the bed, taking Shizuo’s with him. Shizuo shifts to lie next to him without letting go.

"Are you sleeping?" Shizuo asks.

"Yes," he says. "No. I'm having nightmares." He sighs to himself. "Shinra’ll be here soon."

“I know,” Shizuo says. “Do you even need him? You seem better than before.”

Izaya opens his eyes to grin at him lazily.

“I am,” he agrees. “Loads better. Don’t you want to go home?” he says teasingly, as Shizuo holds the back of Izaya’s hand to his cheek, heart picking up like he's the one with a fever.

“I don’t mind,” he hedges. "Obviously."

Izaya shifts closer to him in response, ducking under their hands to press his hair into Shizuo’s throat. Shizuo lies there foolishly, unsure what to do, except stay very still and wonder if this is the feeling you're supposed to get when someone you don't even like cuddles up to you.

Next time they shift, when Izaya moves just the right amount of distance away from him, he leans in, touching their foreheads, and feels Izaya lean in with him.

The doorbell rings out, startling them both and jarring their heads horribly.

Izaya begins spluttering with laughter.

“That _bastard_ ,” he says, but now Shizuo’s so close, he can’t see the funny side of it. He cups Izaya’s neck with hand and kisses him with a new urgency.

Izaya lets him, easing back into the covers and pulling Shizuo down with him. He twitches when the bell goes again, Shinra’s voice rising over it with obvious concern. He pulls back with a tired smile.

“He won’t go away."

Shizuo makes a little noise of agreement, and gets up, on auto-pilot, to answer the door.

“Hey!” Shinra says, oblivious. “I hope you haven't caught anything off him. You’re a little flushed.”

Shizuo puts the back of his hand to his cheek as Shinra pushes back to him, finds it burning.

Shinra chats away to Izaya, in a good mood, like he always is when one of his friends are sick, while Shizuo sits somewhere behind them, out of the way.

“I can take it from here if you want to go, Shizuo,” he says cheerfully.

His and Izaya’s eyes meet.

“Thank you,” Izaya says again, more serious than Shizuo has ever heard him. “I really owe you one.”

Shinra beams at them both like he’s made a cat and a dog become friends.

“Ah, I always knew you guys would get on if you tried. Imagine if all three of us could hang out!”

“It - probably wouldn’t be that hard,” Shizuo hears himself saying. Izaya grins at him again, sleepily pleased with himself.

“Yes,” he agrees, ignoring Shinra. “When I’m better, you’ll have to come over more often, Shizu-chan.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
